Last summer, I worked as an Editorial Intern at First Second Books. One of my responsibilities was to read spec script submissions and I was floored by how many different formats were used for graphic novel scripts: screenplay format from a screenwriting software, stage play format written in Microsoft Word, prose outlines with sample pages of finished work…

I love reading scripts but sometimes the writer seemed to be making up the format as they went. I often found it difficult to make out what information was describing the action, what was a line of dialogue, who was saying which lines, what was background information unnecessary for the reader but potentially interesting for the artist, what was direction for the artist, etcetera.

Needless to say, reading those scripts was not fun.

A script is not just words on paper. A script is a visual experience for the reader.

A script is like a map for your story. The pictures and symbols on a map do not hold a candle to the actual experience of the trip, but reading a map can either be a simple, pain-free, enjoyable process for the reader that leads them from spot to spot along the journey or it can be just plain awful. The last thing that we want as writers is for our reader to get lost using our map.

This is why formatting your script in a clear, easy-to-follow way is so important.

Fortunately or unfortunately, a standard format for graphic novel scripts does not exist; at least, I haven’t found it. Depending on your intended approach to producing the comic, there are many accepted ways to approach formatting.

In the 1960’s, Stan Lee was responsible for writing more than 50 stories a month. To take the pressure off his shoulders, he would write a short paragraph of plot for each page of the comic and leave the comic artist to design the page. Only after everything was drawn did Stan write the dialogue for the story (which is why so much of the dialogue is expository – used to convey information when there was no room to do so visually).

If your intention is to just get work out the door, and/or give each role of production a good deal of autonomy, this hands-off approach, later coined as the “Marvel Method,” is a fantastic way to do that. (To the right and left are samples of Marvel Method-type scripts. Click the image to get an expanded view.)

If you prefer the opposite, hands-on, side of the spectrum, consider Alan Moore’s scripts, which rival the length of most novels. Moore wrote pages of prose for each panel, describing every element of every image in perfect detail. Needless to say, this approach offers the writer more control of the story and more responsibility. The best type of artist for this collaboration would be someone who just wants to draw and would appreciate all the homework you put in to make every last detail count (and doesn’t mind reading a lot).

When developing my own approach to writing scripts for graphic novels, instead of making formatting decisions based upon whomever I would be collaborating with – since I rarely know who that person will be until I have finished writing the script – I utilized my time spent as a reader of poorly formatted script submissions as my primary influence.

First and foremost, instead of using two or three script pages to describe one page of comics or one paragraph to describe five pages of comics, I try to have all of the panel descriptions and dialogue for each page of comics to be on each coinciding page of script. Everything that happens on page one of the comic is written on page one of the script. The same with page two and so on.

On the same note, I also arrange the pages during printing so that the even numbered pages (which are always on the left-hand side) are printed on the left-hand side and the odd numbered pages are on the right. This allows the reader to get a more accurate feel for pacing. For example, instead of imagining when the page turns take place, the reader actually turns the page on the page turns.

Second, I don’t separate thumbnails from the script. If thumbnail images are on a separate piece of paper, requiring the reader to turn their head back-and-forth to find the text that coincides with the image, they can easily get lost and frustrated. Having thumbnails on separate sheets of paper also requires more sheets of paper to be carried and kept organized. A 200-page script and two hundred pages of thumbnails is a lot of paper to lug around.

To address this, I adopted the format in the picture to the left and placed the thumbnail on the script page. Working in Microsoft Word (a software that the majority of people have access to and know how to use), I use the square tool bar to make small boxes and place them in the top right hand corner of the page. These are now my rough thumbnails. It’s not perfect, sometimes those boxes can be difficult to maneuver but it’s better than any alternative I’ve attempted, thus far. (To the right is an example from Archie Goodwin, who drew his panels in by hand — though, I would advise against putting them in the bottom right; readers generally tend to look top right before bottom right).

Lastly, I want the reader to be able to glance at my script and visually register the difference between a description of action, a line of dialogue, a character name, anything and everything they would need to know. Eventually, my hope is that they will forget about all the design work I’ve done and simply enjoy the story.

With all this said, I do not consider my suggestions to be the end-all, be-all. Much like the work samples above, my format works for me, and it’s still evolving. If something else works for you, please share it, I’d be up for trying something new.

(Note: The samples above are — in order of appearance — by Mark Waid, Scott Peterson, Roger Stern, Alan Moore, Scott McCloud and Archie Goodwin. With the exception of Moore’s script page, the samples were all taken from The DC Comics Guide to Writing Comics by Dennis O’Neil — an excellent introduction to writing comics.)

Have you ever put something you have already done on your To Do list just so you can cross it off? Why do we do this? Maybe you have different reasons, but I do it because when I have a full list of daunting things to do, it’s satisfying to know I’ve at least accomplished something.

It’s about building momentum. When the ball is rolling, you feel good and thus feel like working more.

So, how do we build momentum as writers? One trick: Constraints.

It may seem counter-intuitive, but it’s true. Constraints (limitations in page count, panel count, cast of characters, tools and production, deadlines, etc.) encourage creative problem solving and force you to utilize what you have to its greatest use – not what you want, if only you had it.

This is why 24-hour comics are so popular. With limitations in time (24 hours) and production (only the tools that aid you in speed – the bare minimum), you can produce a 24-page comic in a single day! In fact, I’d even up the number of constraints and force yourself to do a self-contained story about a particular character (or cast); after a number of 24-hour comics, you’d have a series!

Speaking of series, working within the constraints of page count, a set cast of characters and monthly deadlines this is how the work of Carl Barks, Stan Sakai, Alan Moore, Frank Miller and many others were completed.

Weekly television show scripts are constrained by a set cast of characters, short deadlines and the number of pages (pages = “minutes of screen time”) permitted between commercial breaks.

Daily comic strips are constrained to just 1-4 panels and can eventually be collected to hundreds if not thousands of pages.

And many blogs, limited in word count, subject matter and weekly/daily deadlines are being repackaged and published as books (some of which are National Bestsellers).

So why not you?

Completing tiny goals within short deadlines leads to a feeling of success and the desire to repeat such a satisfying process. Positive experiences lead to more output and eventually the sum of all your minimal efforts will result in a huge pile of work. By producing at a high volume (“practicing”), you can eventually find your unique voice (how you like to write), what you like to write about (genre and thematic content), and more people will have the opportunity to read your work or at least hear of you – the prolific comics writer. The more readers you earn, the more fans, followers and hopefully pay will come your way.

So, feel free to constrain your work as much as you possibly can. Keep it short and satisfying. Write as much as you can, as well as you can and as fast as you can within your limitations, and keep moving.

We all have secrets. Sometimes we feel these secrets are so shameful we don’t tell anyone, but when a secret can potentially affect someone else for the rest of their life it is our responsibility to be strong enough and mature enough to be honest with that person, even if it means admitting that life has left you scared, tainted, or blemished.

This is Ken Dahl’s problem in Monsters, a graphic novel memoir (Ken Dahl is the pen name for Gabby Schulz), when he learns he has herpes.

He struggles to be a responsible, mature adult while constantly tempted to take an easier path (and live life as a monster) by keeping it a secret from friends and, more importantly, lovers.

Sometimes a person can influence and inspire us in a life-altering way. In good situations, we look up to this person and admire them. They, directly or indirectly, become our mentors and serve as a symbol for who we want to be. For Grace, the protagonist in Amelia Earhart: This Broad Ocean, this mentor is — not a surprise due to the title — the legendary Amelia Earhart.

For young Grace, Amelia becomes a symbol for what she can become in society if she is willing to take the risk of a life-path that is more ambitious than what her hometown of Trepassey, Newfoundland would find suitable for a woman.

Written by Sarah Stewart Taylor (my teacher at The Center for Cartoon Studies) and drawn by Ben Towle, Amelia Earhart: This Broad Ocean is a solid graphic novel with heart, history and three full acts in just 80 pages of story!

By taking possession of the Amulet she became a superhero: a “gifted” (not normal) person who is destined to use their gift to save humanity by living a life of self-sacrifice. Emily is supposed to save the world. That’s a great responsibility hanging around the neck of an eleven year-old. What can she do?

What is a superhero supposed to do once they realize they can’t help but be a superhero? Answer: Commit, despite the consequences. That is what Kazu Kibuishi (shout out to a fellow UCSB Film Studies graduate!) explores in Amulet Book Two: The Stonekeeper’s Curse.

What would you do if your brother lost his mind… literally? Will Doom find Danger's runaway brain before the test at school, or will he have a brainless brother forever?!

Short Notes on Long Comics

Three-Act Story Structure in Graphic Novels

"Short Notes on Long Comics is awesome!”
— Calista Brill, Editor for First Second Books

Short Notes on Long Comics will show you how three-act story structure is used in 10 of the most popular graphic novels on the market. From their example, you can learn how to structure your own story and make your graphic novel the best it can be.